


Little Pest to Masaki-Nii-Nii

by soraflye (flitterfly5)



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Cute, Fluff and Humor, M/M, boy crushes, schoolchildren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 04:53:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10550386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flitterfly5/pseuds/soraflye
Summary: First-grader Aiba really wishes that his classmate Jun would stop following him around, but it turns out Jun only does it because he has something he wants to tell Aiba.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is all fiction. I am not affiliated with Arashi in any way. 
> 
> Published on lj a long time ago.

  
"Stop following me around, you little copycat!"  
  
"I'm not a copycat!"   
  
"Are too!"   
  
"Am not!"  
  
"Are too!"   
  
"AM NOT!"   
  
Aiba Masaki glared at the huffing face of Matsumoto Jun, and drew himself up to all four feet of his boyish height.   
  
"ARE TOO, copycat!"   
  
He towered over the lighter-built Jun, and raised one arm in a threatening chop gesture that the other boy knew only too well.   
  
"Aiba-kun!" said Sakurai-sensei warningly, finally deciding that this commotion was worth looking up from his morning news for. "It's not nice to threaten your friends with violence!"   
  
"Well, BakaJun is _not_ my friend!" Aiba glared even harder and brought the edge of his palm down on the middle of the smaller boy's bare head in a crisp snap.   
  
Jun burst into tears and ran from the playroom, his flushed face buried in his slender little hands.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
As punishment, Sakurai-sensei had sentenced Aiba to fold everyone's gym clothes during all their play hours for the rest of the week. The boy was seething with resentment.   
  
"It's all that stupid Jun's fault," he muttered venomously to himself as he placed another pair of shorts haphazardly into the laundry basket Sakurai-sensei had given him. "He's always so pathetic, following me around like a stupid little baby, asking me all sorts of stupid bothersome questions and then crying in front of sensei whenever I tell him to stop!" The boy tsked in annoyance and shook his head. "Sensei's only on his side because he's younger than everyone else and needs protecting, but I think he's pathetic! He should just join the kindergarteners if he can't deal with the _mature_ people." Here, Aiba scrunched his nose up rather self importantly. "First grade is for the big boys!"  
  
He tossed a lightly folded t-shirt into the shirts basket spitefully, his mind very much occupied with the fact that he was all of eight months older than that pestilential Jun.   
  
_Yeah, well, eight months is a lot!_  
  
Aiba was just thinking of all the ways he could avoid his personal 8-months-younger nuisance in the coming days when the door to the abandoned locker room cracked open with a timid creak.  
  
He rolled his eyes when he saw the familiar little bowl cut peeping at him from the other side.   
  
"What do you want now, Matsumoto?"   
  
He didn't even bother formally acknowledging the boy with a nod or a bow or even so much as a look. He knew without looking that the little idiot would be inching towards him like a spineless caterpillar until he told him to get lost again.   
  
And sure enough, there was a shy tug at his sleeve in not more than two minutes' time.   
  
"Masaki-nii-nii..."   
  
Oh great, he almost forgot that the little pest liked to call him by that sickening nickname, as if it was supposed to be cute or something.   
  
"What?" he snapped back. "Can't you see I'm a little busy here, thanks to your little crybaby act?"   
  
Jun's curiously whorled lower lip began to quiver.   
  
"I just-I followed Masaki-nii-nii because I-I have a secret to tell you."   
  
Aiba snorted, and continued to fold clothes.   
  
" _Ne_ Masaki-niichan...” Jun’s unnaturally large eyes bloomed up at him timidly. “You know that Ninomiya boy from Ohno-sensei's homeroom two doors down?"   
  
Aiba frowned, trying hard to remember all those hazy faces from their lunchtimes and recesses. He couldn't recall any Ninomiya.   
  
"No," he answered curtly. "What about him?"   
  
"Weeeeellll, he asked me out on a _date_ at the beginning of term."   
  
Aside from the shock, Aiba felt an inexplicable sensation of alarm suddenly constrict his throat.   
  
"What?!" he exclaimed, finally turning around to look at the other boy. "Why would anyone want to ask _you_ out on a date?"  
  
Jun fidgeted against the rough edge of the laundry table, and mumbled something unintelligible. Aiba turned back to his pile of gym shorts with a huff of disgust.  
  
“Well, I bet he’s a weirdo, at any rate. Like he must be addled in the brains or something.”  
  
  
Jun looked crestfallen. His eyes darted from Aiba’s busy hands to his obstinately focused face a few times before he seemed to realize that Aiba was not planning on saying anything more to him. Nervously, he stretched out a small, slender hand and brushed it against Aiba’s arm.   
  
“You’re not j-jealous at all?” he stammered. “I mean, I, um, I’ve always, you know, I think-”  
  
“Why should I be jealous?” Aiba cut across the little pest’s pathetic spill of words with an icy retort. “I don’t care about you and some Ninomiya guy dating each other.”  
  
The younger boy deflated so much at those words that Aiba felt almost sorry for his harshness.   
  
“We aren’t… We’re not _dating_.” Jun bit his lip until it blanched a color of soft cream, and then tried speaking again in skittish dribbles. “I mean, lots of times, he took me to a manga café after school, and-and he held my hand when we had to walk through the crowds in the subway…”  
  
Jun’s words faltered as he saw Aiba stiffening at the words.   
  
“What?” snapped Aiba, for some reason really _really_ bothered by the image of a pudgy, unknown hand curling itself around the warm fingers that were usually tugging at _his_ sleeves and shirt hems. He turned to glare at the source of the words that inspired this sudden annoyance. “Can you stop standing there like an idiot? Just say what you have to say and leave me alone!”  
  
Whatever remained of Jun’s voice seemed to dry up into a parched mouthing of disconnected syllables, and Aiba saw a nervous gulp scuttle its way slowly down the boy’s smooth white throat as he continued in a tiny voice.  
  
“Well, y-yesterday, he gave me a kiss.”  
  
Jun’s breath hung tensely up in the air as the growing fire in Aiba’s scowl suddenly arrested itself and froze into an entirely different kind of ferocity.   
  
The silence stretched on for at least a minute. Then (and only after several furtive peeks at the older boy’s shocked, spasming face), Jun shifted his slippered feet edgily and gave Aiba’s well-worn sleeve another hesitant little tug.   
  
“I didn’t return it, though, I promise!” he squeaked. “I just wanted to come here and tell Masaki-nii-nii that. Nii-nii has to know that I _didn’t_ return the kiss. Nino-kun got mad at me and said that I _had_ to return it because he was my boyfriend, but I didn’t think that was right and so I ran away from him and told him I never want to see him again. Masaki, you have to believe me!”  
  
Aiba exhaled a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding.  
  
“Please…” Jun’s eyes widened hopefully. But Aiba only looked back down at his pile of clothes and resumed folding, stony-faced.  
  
“Why should I care if someone kissed a pesky brat like you?”  
  
He determinedly avoided the younger boy’s stare, and began piling the stacks of folded shorts on top of each other with unnecessary vigor and steadily reddening cheeks. He did _not_ care, no, not one bit!  
  
 _The little copy-cat can go ahead and let the whole school kiss him!_  
  
“Because Masaki-nii-nii’s the one I always follow, and I should have asked Nii-nii’s permission before letting anyone else kiss me!”  
  
“My permission?” Aiba’s fingers suddenly turned to jelly and he almost dropped the laundry basket he had picked up. “What kind of logic is that?”  
  
He gaped at Jun for a second, but then abruptly turned away with the scowl back on his face. He would not, repeat, _would not_ , pay this clingy little crybaby any more attention!  
  
Jun’s big eyes were getting dangerously watery as he took a tiny step closer and, with demure yearning, pressed his rounded little cheek flush against Aiba’s chest. Bashful arms wrapped around Aiba’s waist, and with newfound horror, the older boy realized that his silly pest could probably feel the embarrassingly rapid thump-thump of his heart with mortifying clarity.   
  
“I follow Masaki around, which makes us a _pair_ ,” explained Jun patiently, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And Nii-nii’s older, which means Nii-nii should get my first kiss and all my kisses after that.” The younger boy burrowed his nose into the bony contours of Aiba’s ribs, and when the usual angry resistance didn’t come, he seemed to grow bolder and dug his little fingers deep into Aiba’s back.  
  
“I just want Nii-nii to know that Nino-kun’s kiss doesn’t count,” Jun looked up at Masaki’s unnaturally rigid face imploringly. “Because I didn’t kiss back. I didn’t return it!”   
  
Aiba’s body seemed to have turned to some curiously brittle sort of granite, because he was suddenly feeling as though even the tiniest movement would break him as he stood trapped in the twiggy arms that he was normally so accustomed to swatting away.   
  
“Masaki-nii-nii can still have my first kiss, if he wants it. I-I’ve kept it for him.” Jun’s upturned cheeks were blushing a soft shade of cherry as he blinked his large eyes expectantly.   
  
Aiba’s mind wasn’t even working anymore.   
  
“That’s okay. I’m okay,” was all he managed to mutter out loud. He didn’t even know if that was actually what he meant to say, but one thing was certain, and that was that his poor brain would positively implode if the little pest (who was beginning to look oddly _cute_ ) continued this alarming talk about _kissing_.   
  
Slumping at the rejection, Jun peeled himself off of Aiba and looked at him with teary reproach.   
  
“Masaki-nii-nii just doesn’t _understand_ me!” he cried, the wail of tears already hot in his voice. “Masaki _never_ understands me!”  
  
He wiped at his dripping long lashes with the back of a small hand, turned stumblingly, and flew out the door before the stunned Aiba could even say a word in response.   
  
_Run after him, you idiot!_ A voice in his head piped up instinctively. _Run after him and get your first kiss!_  
  
Aiba tried to swat that annoying voice away, but he couldn’t, because strangely enough, his body seemed to gravitate towards doing exactly what that voice was instructing.  
  
“Oh, this is going to be _so_ annoying.” Aiba rolled his eyes in one last stretch of exasperation, before his long legs broke out of their stiffness and sent him dashing out the door after that little—no, it was _his_ little—crybaby Jun.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
END


End file.
